Enough For Now
by rachel2205
Summary: Life Serial is one of those episodes where things could have gone differently for Buffy and Spike. As with the postcoital moment in the opening of Wrecked, Spike seems to shoot himself in the foot.So, this is a slight what if replay.


Spike sat in his crypt, waiting for the sun to go down so that he could get out and, he had to admit, probably stalk Buffy a bit. He didn't always intend to track her, to wind up wherever she was, but his feet always led him to her. Sometimes he hated himself for it. He'd always followed women, letting them lead – first Cecily and then Dru, and even in a way his own darling mother. Buffy was just the latest in a long list who had him by the short and curlies. Difference with Buffy was that she could make the experience hurt like no one else had. Still, he loved her, and so he'd seek her out, night after night.

Except this night he didn't have to. She came to him. She threw open the door in her usual ungracious manner, but for a change she didn't punch him in the face as her opening gambit. Instead she threw herself into a chair and crossed her arms. Her mouth was a thin line of fury.

Spike waited for a moment, then said lightly:

"Good day, love?"

Her mouth pursed into a moue of anger, and for a minute Spike thought that punch was coming, but instead she sighed and uncrossed her arms, rubbing her palms against her thighs.

"I cannot begin to tell you how this day sucked," she said. "All kinds of the suckiness." She nodded emphatically.

"So you thought a visit to my crypt would round it off nicely?" he asked, then wished he hadn't. It was just the kind of thing that would send her off into the night.

"No," she said, rolling her eyes. "I was just fed up of being around people."

"Cheers," he said sarcastically, biting the inside of his cheek. The Slayer did have a way with words.

"You know what I mean. Say, do you still have any of that whisky you like so much?"

This was how they ended up in the alley behind Willy's, after Buffy had broken up what had been a pretty successful game of kitten poker. Spike was beginning to think that his way of showing her his world was not all that he'd planned. Maybe he should've taken her out clubbing, or hell, just ridden her out of Sunnydale on his bike. She'd have been drunk enough to have gone along with it – and even if she'd tried to stake him in the morning, he reckoned it'd have been a fun night.

But no. He had to actually try to help her find out who had been messing with her, and so he had taken her to the poker game. It had bored the Slayer and had not shown Spike off to his most manly potential.

Buffy strode outside and Spike followed quickly, grabbing her by the shoulder.

"What's wrong, love?"

"What's wrong! You were gonna help me! You, you were gonna beat heads and, and, fix my life! But you're completely lame!"

She waved emphatically, her jacket falling down her arm. She flapped the empty sleeve in Spike's face.

"Tonight sucks! And, and look at me! Look at, look at stupid Buffy! Too dumb for college, and, and, and freak Buffy, too strong for construction work! And, and my job at the magic shop? I was bored to tears even i before /i the hour that wouldn't end! And the only person I can even stand to be around is a ... neutered vampire who cheats at kitten poker!"

She pulled her jacket back up her arm and stared at him defiantly.

"And I think you're drunk," she said, by way of satisfactory end to her complaint.

Spike stared at her for a minute.

"You thought I was going to fix your life?" he said, eyebrows knit together. "Buffy -" He reached out, but Buffy shrugged his hand away.

"Forget it," she mumbled. "Didn't mean anything." Her jacket slipped off her other shoulder. Spike lifted it back on gently, smoothing the leather down into place.

"I think it did mean something, Buffy," he insisted. "Cos why else would you show up and –"

"Oh God," said Buffy, her eyes widening as if in the midst of some great revelation.

"What?" said Spike eagerly, stepping forward eagerly.

"I think I'm gonna puke," said Buffy, and immediately did so. Onto his shoes. Buffy and Spike stared down at them. "Wow," said Buffy in a wondering voice. "I guess i I'm /i drunk."

"I think that's a fair assessment, pet," said Spike. "P'raps we should get you home."

"No," said Buffy, swaying slightly and clutching onto his arm. "Home bad. Dawn will see me drunk, and therein lies…" She wrinkled her forehead, trying to think of a word. "Badness."

"Alright then, the crypt it is," said Spike. They started to walk towards his bike, but Buffy kept stumbling. Eventually she reached out and grabbed his hand. If Spike's heart was beating, it would have jumped painfully at that point. Course, it didn't mean anything to her – she was just pissed, that's all – but the feel of her hand, palm to palm with his, would be something to think about on quiet nights, he reckoned.

They managed to get back to his crypt without any further vomiting from Buffy.

"Which is a blessing," said Spike, "cos I dunno if my deathless love could withstand you puking on my duster." He chucked his vomit stained shoes into the bin and turned back to Buffy, who was sitting on the sofa, her hand pressed to her forehead.

"I think I'm sobering up," she said weakly. Her cheeks were pale. Spike handed her a cup of tea.

"Nothing like a brew when you've got a hangover," he said. She looked up at him blankly. "You know, tea. Drink it." She took a sip and then held the cup between her hands.

"I feel like an idiot," she confessed quietly. "I've been trying so hard to be normal again, but I've just made myself feel worse."

"Maybe you can't be like you were," Spike said, sitting down on the sofa next to her. "But Buffy, pet, did you ever think that maybe that's a good thing? I'm not much of a philosopher, but life's about growth and all that. Things've got to change."

"You don't change," she pointed out. "You've had that same hairstyle since I was 16, but I guess you've had that exact same face a lot longer."

"I i have /i changed, Buffy," he said quietly. "I know you can't see it, but it's true."

"Yeah," she said after a minute. "I guess you have. I just don't like to admit it." She sighed and blew on her tea. "I'll probably regret saying that when I'm sober."

"Why do you think that is, pet?" said Spike, sensing an opportunity but not wanting to push her too far.

"I don't know." She put the cup on the table and leaned back, closing her eyes. She didn't speak for a while and Spike thought perhaps she'd fallen asleep. "It's hard to admit that you're easier to be around than my friends," she said at last.

"Cos I know about the heaven thing?" he asked.

"Partly, but also…"

"Cos you can pretend to be on your own when you're with me?" Spike said, unable to contain a trace of bitterness in his voice. He knew that half the time when Buffy visited him she hardly knew he was there. Buffy's eyes opened and she lifted her head.

"No!" she said. "Yes. Sort of. Sometimes." She sighed. "I can pretend you don't matter and so I can say what I want, whilst if I do that with my friends I'd feel guilty."

"Pretend?" asked Spike softly, leaning in. She had nearly said he had value to her, and just that was enough to make him want to punch the air triumphantly, but he restrained himself. She was so easy to scare off.

"I guess I like having you around. Even if you're annoying, and kind of lame. You… get me. The others don't." She uttered the last part softly, a red spot of shame appearing in her cheeks. She looked down at her hands. "When I'm with you, sometimes I feel like you know what I'm thinking. Which is totally irritating. But… I guess sometimes I like it. Because I don't have to talk."

Spike's stomach knotted with a kind of painful pleasure.

"Buffy-" he said, reaching out. Buffy jerked away from his hand.

"Don't, Spike," she said, not unkindly. "This… is enough for now, ok?"

"Alright, pet," he said quietly. "It's enough for me."

"I'm glad," said Buffy, and closed her eyes again. Within a couple of moments she fell asleep. Spike sat and watched the way her chest rose and fell, listening to the sound of her voice.

Yeah, for now it was enough.


End file.
